


Not Another Sorting!

by kach-noona (auzu)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Time Travel, Gen, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-20
Updated: 2017-04-20
Packaged: 2018-10-21 04:10:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10677402
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/auzu/pseuds/kach-noona
Summary: One moment Harry Potter was celebrating the one-hundred-and-fiftieth anniversary of the end of the war, and the next moment he was back in the Great Hall as a 1st year, waiting to be Sorted. But this Harry is not going to take it in good cheer…





	Not Another Sorting!

**Author's Note:**

> Originally published on ff.net (5/22/2013). Revised and updated with an AO3-only bonus on 4/19/2017.

_May 2nd, 2147 -_ _The Great Hall, Hogwarts_

"Finally, ladies and gentlemen, please welcome the Minister of Magic, Oswald Ogden,” a straitlaced young man announced in an amplified voice. He stepped down from the platform and canceled the _Sonorus_ charm just as the Minister squeezed past him.

Minister Ogden, a white-whiskered and wide-bellied wizard, briefly acknowledged the young man before casting _Sonorus_ on himself. “Ahem, ahem, thank you, Weatherby.”

“Merlin’s stones, it’s _Bartle_ by, you plump buffoon,” the exasperated young Bartholomew Bartleby muttered under his breath. He still looked rather ruffled as he went down to sit next to his grandmother, Lucy Bartleby _née_ Weasley.

“Ahem, ahem, thank you all for coming to the dinner, ahem, of the one-hundred-and-fiftieth anniversary of, ahem, the Battle of Hogwarts and the defeat of, ahem, Tom Riddle,” said the Minister. “Ahem, we are gathered here to acknowledge the one who defeated Riddle not once, ahem, but twice. Ladies ahem gentlemen, please direct your attention to the venerable ahem, Harry Potter!”

The witches and wizards gathered in the Great Hall clapped enthusiastically as a very old and still-commanding figure stood from where he was seated at the Head Table. They whispered excitedly to their spouses, siblings, and children, many of whom had been named after the Boy-Who-Lived or his companions. “That’s him! That’s _the_ Harry Potter!”

Harry Potter, super-centenarian and Hero of the Wizarding World, smiled in a crinkly way before the sea of people. "Thank you, Minister Ogden, for the introduction, and thank you all for coming here tonight. I’d like to toast to this occasion." His green eyes, still emerald-bright at the age of one hundred-and-sixty-seven, smiled as well. "The war was not won just thanks to me, but by the cooperation and effort of individual witches and wizards, just like you." After a few minutes in this vein, Harry finished his toast to a round of thunderous applause. He took his seat next to his eldest daughter, Lily Luna, and her brood of blond and red-headed Scamanders.

The anniversary dinner went on for another humdrum hour, accompanied by the soft jazz stylings of the Diagon Alley Hot Club Quintet before Harry could finally excuse himself. He was rather stuffed after finishing off several firewhiskies, generously provided by Minister Ogden’s family, and some treacle tart–quite good, but even house elves could never make any as wonderful as that of Molly Weasley's. In order to stave off any discomfort from eating so much, Harry made the familiar trek to the Astronomy Tower.

The castle grounds were especially luminous and beautiful that night, as the old moon shone its face. On nights like these, Harry often felt that his dear friend Luna’s spirit was watching over the world in her own mysterious way. As the wind gently caressed his weathered cheeks, Harry closed his eyes and allowed all of the old memories to rush back to him.

The birth of his first great-grandchild, the wedding of his eldest grandchild, the births of his grandchildren, Lily's wedding to Lorcan, Teddy and Victoire's wedding and first child, Harry's own wedding to Hermione after Ginny's funeral, the births of his children, graduating from Hogwarts, defeating Voldemort, Snape's death, hunting for the Horcruxes, Dumbledore's death, sixth year, fifth year, Triwizard Tournament, third year, basilisk, and arriving at Hogwarts for the very first time all arrived to him.

Harry smiled wistfully, a tear forming at the corner of his eye. Returning to Hogwarts brought back so many memories, both good and bad, happy and tragic. But all in all, it had been a good life. In fact, Harry wouldn't mind taking a nap, possibly one from which he would wake to find himself with all his loved ones. He settled down, resting his head against the walls of the Tower, and allowed himself to drift off to sleep, with the moon shining down on him...

 _Thud_.

Harry blinked. Then blinked again. _What_ , he tried to say.

“What?” His voiced squeaked.

“Potter, Harry,” an unmistakable, stern, and yet not unkind voice rang in Harry's ears.

Harry looked up and was almost brought down to his knees by the scene. The Great Hall, with its splendorous night-sky ceiling and long tables set with plates and silverware, looked precisely as it had at the anniversary dinner. However, the people seated at the tables were those whom Harry most definitely did not remember seeing at the dinner. Instead of the usual Ministry officials and families eager to see the legendary hero, schoolchildren and staff wearing their formal robes were present. But these were not the members of Hogwarts he would see while visiting one of his great-grandchildren. Somehow, they were the ones Harry had called schoolmates and teachers.

The voice prompted him sternly, "Mr. Potter, if you would kindly step up to the stool, the Sorting Hat will be able to Sort you all the more sooner."

Harry gaped in awe at Minerva McGonagall in the flesh (and tall pointy hat). She was much taller than the last time he remembered seeing her, nearly a century prior. Then, Harry realized that it was he who had grown shorter–he was precisely the height he was at when he was only eleven years old.

What was this? Had he drunk one sponsored firewhiskey too many? Surely this was a hallucination... _ouch_ ! Nursing his freshly-bitten hand, Harry deduced it was _not_ that. As McGonagall stared, shocked at Harry for chewing on his own body parts, the de-aged wizard wondered if Fate, or Death, had decided to send him to his past. Why? Harry had been fine with his life as it was. He could have left the world, perfectly content.

Harry noticed something very familiar and _very_ unappreciated out of the corner of his eye. “Aha!” He cried out.

“Mr. Potter, are you quite alright?” McGonagall sounded worried. “Your hand...”

“That’s fine,” Harry said, waving his other hand. “Don’t worry about it.”

“I insist you go to the Infirmary right after, Mr. Potter, but as we have more students waiting to be Sorted, please hurry and step up to the–”

“Oh _hell_ no,” said Harry flatly. The Sorting Hat...not the goddamn Sorting Hat!

McGonagall's left eye twitched slightly. "Excuse me, Mr. Potter?"

"Not another Sorting...There is no way in hell that I'm going to let that damn thing touch my head again." The 'damn thing' in question looked wounded, or at least as wounded as a thousand-year-old talking hat could look, but Minerva McGonagall looked as if she had accidentally swallowed Dumbledore’s entire sherbet lemon collection. Her eye-twitching had sped up to a moderate pace now.

Harry’s ears perked up when he heard Snape begin to sneer. "Disobedient and disrespectful of authority, just like his father," said the Potions master bitingly.

McGonagall's eye was twitching at a very fast tempo now. "Professor _Snape_ ," she hissed under her breath, the emphasis on her colleague's name both obvious and dangerous. Snape masterfully glowered at Harry.

Harry simply rolled his eyes. A hundred and fifty years did a lot to temper a wizard, and Harry just did not care about how rude and glare-y Snape was to him. Hell, only a few years after the war, the hero had even named his second child 'Albus Severus'. Not that Al had ever used or ever really liked his middle name, but still.

"Regardless of your personal opinions about the Sorting Hat, you must be Sorted into a House, Mr. Potter, in order to become a student at Hogwarts," said McGonagall in a composed voice after regaining control over her eye.

Harry sighed. "Alright, just give me the Hat," he said in a placating manner. McGonagall handed him the dusty old Sorting Hat and Harry placed it on his head after seating himself on the stool. The Hat was silent for a few moments. Then, he spoke.

"I am quite injured, Mr. Potter, by your callous refusal to be Sorted and your rude description of me as 'that damn thing'."

Harry shrugged. "If you can truly read my mind, Alistair, you would see that we did away with the Sorting of students after my wife became Headmistress."

"Indeed," said the Hat, "and what became of me?"

"Well, Hermione did insist that we keep you, as you were a magical artifact…"

"Then why refer to me as 'that damn thing'?"

"After we got rid of the Sorting, you were so bored out of your burlap mind that you took to singing Sorting songs. Of the lewd variety. While located in my quarters. At unearthly hours, usually right as I was falling asleep or trying to, ahem, have some time with my wife." One particular incident surfaced to the front of Harry's mind.

He had just Floo'd into his chambers after a busy day at the Ministry when he was greeted by a flirtatious Hermione. Right as they were stumbling into the bedroom, the Hat had burst into a loud and bawdy rendition of 'The Slytherin's Snake is Long and Dexterous (Quite, Quite So)'. That had quickly killed the mood, prompting Harry to banish the Sorting Hat for the first time of many.

Alistair gave a wistful little sigh. "I do suppose that it was a bit over-the-top, but a fitting revenge for stealing my existence’s purpose, nevertheless." He grinned or made a close approximation of one. "Now won't you let me Sort you?"

Harry shook his head. "Oh, just shut up. I'm still not getting Sorted." 

* * *

_the end_

* * *

AO3 BONUS: The first two stanzas of "The Slytherin's Snake is Long and Dexterous (Quite Quite So)"

_Slytherin’s snake is long and dexterous_

_And if you were to come and pester us_

_While we were petting its fang_

_Into your face it’ll sprang_

_Shooting its venom in a gush!_

  
_While fawning over the lil fellow_

_Keep on watching or it’ll go_

_Slither into dark wet caverns_

_Leaving slick, serpentine patterns_

_And all the ladies screaming, whoa-oh_

(the rest has been omitted due to ~~the author being uncreative af~~  becoming increasingly salacious) 

**Author's Note:**

> Finally, an AO3 account! I'll be moving my (very few) stories from fanfiction.net over here, and hopefully writing some more. I hope you've enjoyed this fic, and let me know what you think :)


End file.
